


The Southern Ice

by JWood201



Series: Our Ardani [1]
Category: Star Trek: Picard
Genre: Betazoid, Galaxy's Best Grandma, Gen, Harpanthi, Mind Witches of the Southern Ice, Nepenthe, Telepathy, Viveen, Wild Girl of The Woods, ardani, give me Photoshopped Majel Barrett with the grandbabies please
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:08:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23209816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JWood201/pseuds/JWood201
Summary: Thad Troi-Riker brings his grandmother home.
Series: Our Ardani [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1708720
Comments: 17
Kudos: 63





	The Southern Ice

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Picard 1x07 “Nepenthe.”  
> Takes place in approximately 2394. Thad is 13, Kestra is 8.
> 
> I made up some Harpanthi by cobbling together translations from many real languages and the few words we heard on the show - because I am no Thad Troi-Riker and I have no idea how people make up languages. Hopefully Google Translate didn't steer me too wrong. Yikes.
> 
> The Kingdoms and lands of Ardani are from the image of Thad's map that showrunner Michael Chabon posted on Instragram.
> 
> As always, italics indicate telepathy.

She appeared in the doorway of his mind like the Grand Duchess of the Nitklin Empire.

No, that’s not right.

Backlit by the sun and sparkling like the Doyenne of Darshandok.

Better, but not quite.

A suitcase by her feet – gold and hard and ridged like a seashell – the royal baggage of the High Countess of Yz the Sunken Land.

No. Too wet.

Hazy perfume hung in the air, the heady aroma of tropical flowers from Ukelu the Island Kingdom.

Too hot.

Tall and elegant and imposing like the Queen of Karvanno, but warm and mischievous and the tiniest bit wild like the Chieftess of the Viveen. But also –.

_Get down here and hug me, young man._

His head popped up from his map, dark eyes wide, and he listened. Silence. A faint prickling in the back of his mind. Love melted through him and he jumped out of his chair.

_Now , Thaddeus!_

Halfway to the door he turned back and pulled a fresh piece of paper across his unfinished map. He scrawled something over the whole blank space before tossing his pen aside and running toward the stairs:

MIND WITCHES?!

\-----

“I can’t sleep on the top … whatever you call it.” Lwaxana waved a manicured hand vaguely toward the ceiling.

“Bunk.” 

Lwaxana’s nose wrinkled in distaste. 

“Well, neither can I.”

“Why not? It’s your room. Why do you even have … bunk beds?”

Kestra smiled and gestured grandly around the room as if it were Rixx’s fanciest hotel. “For guests.”

“I’m not climbing up there. Did your father put you up to this?”

“Well, I’m not _allowed_ to sleep up there until I’m ten.”

“For the love of the four deities, why not?”

“’Cause I’m little. If I fall out, I have farther to fall.”

“Well, I’m old. If I fall out, I die.”

Kestra frowned. “You’ll never die.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

The Daughters of the Fifth House stared at each other with a stubbornness that spanned time and space and generations. Kestra crossed her arms. Lwaxana put her hands on her hips. Sunlight streamed through the window, bouncing off of the jewels sewn into her full skirt and reflecting prisms across the wood-paneled walls and her granddaughter’s colorful drawings. She thought she spotted a rather unflattering depiction of herself in a humongous dress frowning at a bunnicorn.

“Well, it appears we have a stalemate, young lady.”

Kestra smirked like her father and Lwaxana almost smiled despite herself. “It appears.”

“Darling, I can’t climb that ladder. I won’t be able to get back down.”

“Well, I’m afraid of heights.”

“You are not! When I got here you were on the roof!”

“That was exposure therapy.”

“Kestra!”

“Xanny!”

They glared at each other for a moment, then turned in unison toward the doorway. “Deanna!” “Mom!”

It was Will who appeared. “Problem, ladies?” He leaned casually against the doorframe.

“Xanny wants me to fall 47 kilometers out of the top bunk and break my head!”

“Your daughter wants me to get stuck up there until I die!”

Kestra faltered and a wave of horror hit Lwaxana squarely in the chest. “You’ll never die,” she repeated.

“Seems like you’ve got this well in hand.” Will leaned into the room and grabbed the doorknob. “Good luck,” he added as he disappeared behind the closed door.

Kestra crawled onto the bottom bunk and slid toward the wall. She stared at the slats above her until she felt the mattress sag. Lwaxana awkwardly climbed in next to her, pulling her rustling skirt in behind her. It filled the small space in a cloud of fabric, obscuring Kestra’s grubby toes.

“Not if I can help it. I promise,” Lwaxana said when she was settled. They turned on the shared pillow to look at one another. “Do you like it here?”

Kestra smiled. “Ardani. It means home.”

Lwaxana smiled faintly and turned to stare up at the slats. Kestra had written her name up there. “Home.”

Kestra turned onto her side to study her grandmother. Her brow furrowed. She squinted at Lwaxana’s profile in the dim light, backlit by the sun, particles dancing in its beams. Elegant. Strong. Worried. Lonely. Kestra focused all of her mental energy and tried to say something to her in her head. No response. She closed her eyes and concentrated, sending her words out into the ether. Nothing.

“I have an idea,” Kestra finally said out loud. “An answer to all our problems.” The smirk was back.

Lwaxana narrowed her eyes warily. “What?”

“Slumber party.”

\-----

“This is his homeworld, Mother,” Deanna said, closing the dresser drawer harder than necessary. “It’s all he’s ever wanted.”

“But, darling, you already have a homeworld. And so does he. Two of them! Beautiful planets with fine doctors and the newest technology, friends and forests to get lost in. And people who love you.” Lwaxana followed Deanna around the bed to the closet, where she deposited the laundry basket on a chair. “I was on that transport for three days with four Pakleds and a smelly Bolian. I don’t know why you had to come so far away from everything and everyone.”

“You know why we came here.” Deanna turned on her, brandishing a hanger in one hand. “The soil has regenerative –.”

“Has there been any improvement?”

Deanna faltered, then turned away to shove a purple dress into the closet. “No.”

“Has he gotten worse?”

Deanna stared into the depths of her closet. Dresses, skirts, shirts, pants, hung neatly. Will’s shirts, a little lopsided, put away quickly at her insistence, sliding off the hangers. One pink Betazoid gown in a box on the shelf. In a trunk on the floor, Starfleet uniforms, red and blue.

“It’s starting to affect his psionic abilities.” Deanna’s shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly and Lwaxana let out the breath she was holding. “Kestra is so much like Will, but I see me in Thad.”

Lwaxana turned her gently around and stared into her daughter’s face. She laid her hand on Deanna’s cheek and her face crumpled as the tidal wave washed over her. The hollow ache that had been constant in Lwaxana’s chest since Thad’s diagnosis bloomed suddenly and she winced. Her Kestra had gone suddenly, an unexpected shock to her system. This was slow and agonizing and deliberate. He was being dismantled piece by piece and they felt each of them go.

“I’m fine,” Deanna whispered, taking her mother’s hand from her cheek. “Really.”

Lwaxana pulled her into a crushing hug anyway. Heart to heart, absorbing anguish, sharing it, unburdening and reburdening, mixing it between them. Deanna dropped a pile of shirts on the carpet and wrapped her arms around her mother.

_I’m fine._

_Don’t lie._ Lwaxana tightened her hold and Deanna clutched handfuls of beaded chiffon in her fists. She buried her face in her mother’s neck like when she was a child, like when her father died. She smelled like oranges and chameleon roses. _I know how you’re going to feel, Little One._

Lwaxana pulled back and cupped her child’s face in her hands. _Come home._

_This is our home. Ardani._

\-----

“Hey. Wild Girl?”

Kestra hovered in the threshold to Will’s office, eyes on the closed door of her parents’ bedroom. She glanced at her brother at the other end of the hall. He frowned as he stared at the door, not listening, but hearing, and a plume of jealousy spiraled up inside her. Thad met her eyes and she saw the light bulb of inspiration go off in his brilliant, complicated mind. He trotted past her, fingers trailing lightly over the door, and disappeared into his room. He’d be in there for hours, planning something.

“Can you hear them?” Will asked from his desk.

Kestra shook her head. “No. Maybe. The back of my brain feels funny. I feel sad.”

Will smiled. “You may not be a telepath yet, but your empathy’s beautiful.”

Kestra pulled herself into the room and rounded the desk, peering into the shiny surface of her father’s trombone on the credenza behind him. “I learned all of Thad’s languages – even Pahlplah, sort of – but I can’t speak this one.” She ran her finger lightly around the bell of the instrument. “And this one’s mine. It’s _real_.”

Will gathered her into his lap and she instinctively curled up, tucking her toes into the seat cushion. “Did you know that sometimes I can hear Mommy?” He tapped the side of his head. “In here.”

Kestra’s light eyes widened. “But you’re just a human man!”

“Gee, thanks.” Will frowned, then shrugged. “But point taken. Your Grandpa Ian could hear Xanny, too. Only sometimes, though.”

“What’s it like?”

“Honestly? It’s … well, it’s kind of like jazz, actually.” Will spun his chair around until he found his reflection in his trombone. Kestra pressed her cheek close to his, so both of their distorted faces stared back at them. “At first it doesn’t seem to make any sense. Just random notes, without order. Flashes of feelings. Colors. A word here and there. But eventually,” Will turned the chair a bit more until their reflections became recognizable again on the bell, “you find the melody.”

“But humans aren’t telepaths.”

“No. It takes a lot of practice to hear a Betazoid. And you have to love them very much.”

Kestra sat up straight. “I love Mom and Thad and Xanny.”

“I know you do. And I know you’ll practice. But you’re young, so be patient. And … if it turns out that you’re not telepathic, that’s okay too. It doesn’t mean you don’t love them enough,” he added when she started to protest. “Mommy can’t speak Viveen, that’s just for us. Maybe this is just for them?”

\-----

Lwaxana turned from the replicator and yelped at the shadow crossing the living room. “My darling, you startled me!”

“Sorry.” The contents of the bag he carried clanked together as Thad continued toward the open doors leading to the sanctity of the forest.

“What are you up to?”

Thad paused and stared down at the lumpy canvas bag slung over his shoulder like he was surprised to see it there, then back up at Lwaxana’s inquisitively arched eyebrow, and acquiesced. “Scheming,” he said and she laughed. “What are you up to?”

Lwaxana looked down at the spoon of ice cream hovering halfway to her mouth. “Double Chocolate Mint.”

He drifted halfway out of the house and then back inside. “That’s my favorite.”

“Get a spoon.” Lwaxana nodded toward the kitchen and then headed for the sofa.

Thad carefully set his bag down by the door and did as he was told. He plopped down on the floor beside the sofa and took a giant spoonful from the proffered bowl.

“Your sister wants me to join her for something called a slumber party.”

Thad grinned. “Get ready, she snores worse than Dad.” 

Lwaxana scowled. “So, what’s required of me at a slumber party?”

Thad shrugged. “I donno. Girl stuff, I guess. I don’t think Kestra will want you to paint her nails or braid her hair or anything, but she likes ghost stories.”

“Huh.” Lwaxana nodded thoughtfully. “I may have a few ghost stories up my sleeve. Either way, Lwaxana Troi doesn’t back down from a challenge.”

“Didn’t you ever have friends sleep over when you were a kid?”

“Come to think of it, no. I never did. When I was young, the High Houses of Betazed didn’t do such things.” Lwaxana rolled her eyes and dug a giant piece of mint cookie out of the ice cream.

“What about Mom?”

“Well, your mother is a different story. I had thoroughly rebelled by the time she was born,” she announced proudly and they shared a smile. “Her best friend Chandra was at our house all the time. She practically moved in after your grandfather died.” Lwaxana sat back in contemplation. “I even made up a room for her, but I always found them asleep together in the morning. I suppose she was a great comfort to Deanna when I couldn’t be.”

_Maybe you’re a great comfort to Kestra._

Lwaxana looked up at the clarity of him in her mind. Thad had his eyes fixed on the ice cream dish, but his sincerity hung heavy in the air.

Lwaxana cleared her throat. “So, this planet. Nepenthe.”

“Ardani,” Thad said at the same time. They looked at each other for a moment.

“It means home,” Lwaxana said and Thad grinned.

“Yeah.”

Lwaxana nodded and fear sparked around her ears. Loneliness filled her heart. She mentally reached for the cloud of grief in the air, but it floated away too quickly. Thad watched her intently, brow furrowed, ice cream spoon hanging out of his mouth. “I’m sorry. It’s just hard for me that you’re so far away. I miss you. I just want you to –.”

_Come home._

Lwaxana took a deep breath. “No. Never mind, darling. It doesn’t matter what I want.” She lifted his chin until he was looking her in the eye. “You live your life exactly the way you want. I always have.” She kissed him on the forehead and smiled. “Now, go back to your scheming.”

“But I’m –.”

“Go.” She took his spoon and shooed him away from the sofa. “Will you show me what you’re up to when you’re done?”

“I promise.” Thad slung his bag over his shoulder, its contents tinkling inside. “I hope you like it.”

Lwaxana smiled her most radiant diplomatic smile. “I’ll love it.”

Thad paused in the doorway. “Xanny, you need to understand.” He turned around, clutching the strap of his bag. “Everyone’s here. The Viveen are based on stories about ancient Alaska that Dad tells us. The Darshandok are honorable warriors, kinda like Klingons with a better sense of humor. And the President of Isquitar is a tap dancing doctor.” Thad took one step out onto the porch to point toward the peaks in the distance. “You see those mountains behind the house?” Lwaxana looked up through the huge windows. A rocky link connected two summits, like a bridge, leaving an open space between. “When the wind goes through that formation at the right angle, it sounds like music. Mom says it reminds her of the Valley of Song on Betazed.” Thad stood in the doorway, backlit by the sun, and smiled at her.

“Ardani is home for everyone.”

\------

They came for her in the middle of the night. 

Two hooded figures, giggling in the dark, stole into the room on light bare feet. They pulled her from the bottom bunk, shushing her softly, gently prying Kestra’s arm from around her torso.

The younger one took her hand and guided her toward the stairs, no time for slippers. She blinked sleep from her eyes and followed him down into the dark house. They stopped in front of the stone fireplace, its warmth radiating through her nightgown, so the other figure could throw a cloak like theirs around her shoulders.

The firelight etched shadows across Deanna’s sly smile as she pulled the hood over her tousled hair.

Thad led them out into the night, smooth wooden planks giving way to dewy grass between her toes. Nepenthe’s three moons hung low in the sky, illuminating the earth as they crossed the yard, two injured souls following a child with a wooden bow and a quiver of arrows strapped to his back.

The moons’ light slithered through the canopy as they entered the forest and peppered the ground with dappled specks. The soil was soft and cool beneath their feet and, although Lwaxana knew it was just suggestion, she felt a regenerative energy creep up her legs and steal into her heart. They emerged in a round clearing and Lwaxana gasped. 

Fat candles Thad stole from his mother’s dining room table outlined the clearing in a sacred circle, flickering growing shadows on the ferns. Above, handcrafted garlands of sparkling replicated icicles draped between trees, secured by wooden arrows with long blue-feathered fletchings. Among the icicles hung clusters of jars with perforated lids. Inside, perched contentedly on twigs and leaves, were the brightest of Nepenthe’s bioluminescent butterflies.

Three generations gathered around the tree stump in the center of the clearing and took hands. Thad inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, concentrating. His mother and grandmother followed and soon all sound dropped out of the forest. The animals stilled. The wind paused. The moons halted their orbit. But then, came the wingbeats.

A slow smile spread over Thad’s face. _Listen, Xanny. Pahlplah._

The butterflies were speaking. Conversations in gentle rushes of air, from one side of the clearing to the other and back again, rising and falling in the melody of question and answer, argument and laughter, response and meditation. All of her senses expanded to let the planet in. Pahlplah wasn’t only wingbeats.

Thad opened his eyes and stepped up onto the tree stump to address her. _Ragana den intin deldeth. M’rant papnoi –._

Thad disappeared from their minds, sputtering out like a candle. Lwaxana squeezed Deanna’s hand. Frustration rose from his shoulders in a thick red cloud. He took a breath and the steel door of his determination slammed shut. The cloud pulsed and dissipated. He pulled his lips into a tight smile and continued slowly.

_M’rant papnoi ard ard izotza zeth._

Thad laid his hand on his grandmother’s cheek. His brow twitched and he pursed his lips. Lwaxana felt him pulling the sadness from her heart and she steeled her resolve, dragging it back from him. She reached up toward his face as they fought over her sorrow. His fear was there. Pain. But deeper were his curiosity, his adventurous spirit, his love, and, how it was so strong she couldn’t even begin to fathom, his courage.

_Bruixa de la ment. Strykur y vavivadimus. Mahal kita, Lwaxana Troi. Domus Harpanthi._

Thad pulled back his hood, revealing a simple coronet fashioned out of the same replicated icicles in the trees. It glistened in the moonlight like the whitecaps of the Opal Sea. Beside her, Deanna dropped her hood. A shining diadem of ice, intricately molded and spreading into tall spires, grew from her dark hair.

“Adiemus Ardani,” Thad and Deanna said together, and a wave of contentment and community and belonging rose up from the regenerative soil, tickling her skin, filling her empty spaces. She didn’t need to speak Harpanthi, though she vowed to learn, to feel the translation.

“Ambassador Lwaxana Troi. Daughter of the Fifth House. Holder of the Sacred Chalice of Rixx. Heir to the Holy Rings of Betazed.” Deanna removed her hood and from behind the tree stump, Thad produced a third handmade ice crown, larger than the others, more elaborate and more beautiful than her most expensive Folnar jewels, but with the imperfections of a young maker’s hands, and placed it gently on her head. “High Priestess of the Mind Witches of the Southern Ice of Ardani.”

In one swift motion, Thad had his bow in hand. He loosed an arrow toward the tallest tree in the clearing; it hit the intended rope and unleashed a chain reaction of strung jars. They crashed against the trees, releasing the glowing Nepenthene butterflies into the night sky. The creatures circled the clearing like a cyclone, brushing the tops of the grass, skimming arms, alighting on pinnacles of ice. Their wingbeats filled the air, undulating and conversing into a glorious crescendo until the last of the creatures disappeared into the forest, winking out like stars behind clouds.

When silence and darkness descended on the clearing, Lwaxana turned to Deanna. “What were they saying?” 

“Welcome home.”


End file.
